Site-12, Monday Morning. 4:00. January 11th, 2025.
Containment area of SCP-5200
Researcher Boyd closed the hatch behind him, and turned to face the containment vault's occupant. Boyd thought he looked like an old fashioned tramp, complete with bindle and permanent five o'clock shadow. But yesterday he'd looked like a wino, and the day before a washed-up boxer. This look wasn't new.
Boyd sat down across from the entity, and pulled an empty manila envelope out of his jacket. "They told me that you wanted to talk."
SCP-5200 pulled up itself up to the table, and grinned a toothy smile. "Ahyup. You've all been gettin' anxious about the dreamer, right?"
"Perhaps." Boyd turned the envelope over in his hands. "What do you know about it?"
SCP-5200 let out a long sigh, and leaned back in his chair. "Boy, you eggheads sure get to the point quick. If I'm going to tell you that, I'll need to let you know how the world got started out."
Boyd frowned. SCP-5200 was known for spinning stories to distract from having to answer questions. Usually, it was best to play along until it could be coerced into giving a definite answer.
"Fine. But be quick about it, we don't have all week."
SCP-5200 chuckled. "You don't know how right you are, chuck."
He pulled a crumbled cigarette from his jacket, and placed it in his mouth. "Okay, okay… so the first thing that happened, was we had the two forces of the universe. Greeks had it on point, y'know? It was the music, and the dreams."
Boyd nodded, drumming his fingers on his thigh beneath the table.
"So's they banged, y'know, and they made the world. But, they didn't fill in all the space, because you can't fill in nothing forever. There's a little bit left over from the days gone by."
Boyd nodded, and pulled a notebook from his jacket pocket, pretending to take note of what SCP-5200 was saying.
"So that's why this third rock from fun has all the craziness pulled to it like that shit's on rails. It's a storage depot for the unknowable. Would've worked like a breeze if you guys hadn't busted up the lock."
"It was more like a jar."
"Whatever, chuck. That's just how you made the smoker's stupid dream witchery true. When those two kid's get together, nothing's gonna be able to stop them. Not even flipping things around one more time."
"I don't understand a word you're saying." Boyd put the notebook away, and stood up. "If you don't have anything else to add to your story, I think we're done."
SCP-5200 held out a hand. "Wait, sit down a second. There is something I want to give you."
Boyd stopped at the hatch. "What?"
SCP-5200 reached into its own jacket, and pulled out the manila envelope. "Here's what a few people have said."
The envelope is tossed, picked up, examined, and stuffed into a pocket.
Boyd exited the hatch, locking it behind him. Briskly, he set off towards the Records and Information wing, for debriefing and transcription of the interview.
WHAT A FEW PEOPLE HAVE SAID
Site-12, Sunday Evening. 6:00. January 17th, 2025.
Containment area of SCP-5200
"How did you get these documents?"
SCP-5200 leaned back, shaking his shackles. "You know, this isn't what I hoped you would think of them."
Boyd didn't respond, choosing instead to tap his pencil against the clipboard and raise a single eyebrow. None of the usual dodging of inquiry cat-and-mouse would be tolerated today.
"Man… I'm just trying to help you guys. You know that you're coming up on the number. You've got the child, but you don't understand it."
"What's there to understand?"
"It wants…. to turn the clock back. To suck up everything with the taint of the original flaw, the big glitch, that acts as your job security." SCP-5200 attempted to wipe his nose on his sleeve, but the chains didn't allow enough mobility. His face twisted as he suppressed a sneeze.
Boyd narrowed his eyes, and made a note. "How do you know? Why are you helping us? You could easily be trying to undermine us."
"I know because that's the whole reason I exist. I was made specifically for this moment, right here. For you to find me, and for me to help you out when the time came."
"Who sent you?"
"Every-frikin'-body that doesn't want to die when this thing starts knuckling down, dummy. There's a lot of vested interest in existing for a lot of people." SCP-5200 leaned forwards from backwards, and began to whisper. "And, off the record, you guys need the help."
"What do they know about the object?"
SCP-5200 groaned, and attempted to rub its brow. "Have you not been listening at all? Look. It's gonna change into something much, much closer to how it originally was. That's the deal. That's what you need to prepare for. When that starts, you'll need to play all your cards right to keep it from going back to how it likes things. Non-existent."
Boyd's brow creased slightly, as he took more notes. "So, if you're here to help, do you know what to do if it's starting?"
"Your guess is as good as mine, chuck. From my end, this is all she, he, and they wrote. Hope y'all don't die."
… Exiting file "Document 017-1
Signing off, Editor's Desk
Logging out, O5-7